Джорджетт Хейер - Envious Casca

"Jealous of him, was he?"

"I wouldn't like to say that, Inspector, though I have heard it said that Mr. Stephen was afraid Mr. Joseph would put his nose out of joint. But I never believed that, because Mr. Stephen's no fool, and anyone could see Mr. Joseph's as innocent as a newborn babe, with no more notion of that kind of thing than nothing at all. In my opinion, it was just Mr. Joseph's way that got Mr. Stephen's goat."

"H'm!" said the Inspector. "You like Mr. Stephen, don't you?"

"I've never had any cause to dislike him. He's always been pleasant enough to me, whenever I've waited on him, which I often have."

"Got a temper, by what I hear."

"Yes, like Mr. Herriard he is, in some ways, except that he's not one to tell the world what he's thinking, by any means. You knew where you were with Mr. Herriard, but Mr. Stephen's no talker, and you wouldn't get to the bottom of him in a hurry. And I don't think the worse of him for that."

"No reason why you should," said the Inspector, closing the interview.

Magpie, when summoned to the morning-room, twisted her apron between her fingers, and said in a frightened gasp that she didn't wish to get anyone into trouble. When her alarms had been allayed, and she had been permitted to unburden herself of a highly coloured account of her own reactions to the crime, which included such interesting details as Coming Over Ever So Queer, and suffering equally from palpitations and a total inability to believe that anyone could have murdered the master, she admitted that she had seen Miss Paula and Mr. Roydon go into Miss Paula's room, and had heard the murmur of their voices, the door having been left ajar. Later, when she had come up the backstairs with Miss Paula's dress, which she had gone downstairs to fetch, having had it in the kitchen to dry, because of the stain on it which Miss Paula had asked her to wash out, she had caught a glimpse of Miss Paula outside the master's door, just coming away, as though she had been in to speak to him.

There was nothing more to be got out of her, nor did an interrogation of the rest of the staff produce any other information than that Mrs. Fratton, the cookhousekeeper, had no expectation of ever recovering from the shock; that the kitchen-maid had been having strong hysterics all the evening, her being a seven-months child, and delicate from birth; and that Preston, the headhousemaid, had seen Disaster in her teacup only the day before, and had told the rest of the staff to Mark her Words, there was Trouble coming for Someone.

By the time the Inspector, confronted by a gustily sobbing kitchen-maid, had somewhat hastily informed Mrs. Fratton, who supported and encouraged this damsel by adjurations to give over, and stop acting so silly because the policeman wasn't going to eat her, that he had no more questions to ask, the experts upstairs had finished their various tasks, and Nathaniel's body had been conveyed to the waiting ambulance.

Several finger-prints had been discovered upon the panels and handle of Nathaniel's door, and upon various articles of furniture in the room. Some of these were Nathaniel's own prints, as might have been expected; and although the others would have to be identified there did not seem to be much hope that this line of investigation would prove to be very helpful. The expert was engaged, Sergeant Capel told the Inspector, in taking the finger-prints of all the inmates of the house, a task calling for a great deal of tact and patience, since Valerie Dean was tearfully sure that her mother would object, and the female half of the domestic staff apparently considered the operation to be the first step to the gallows.

Both doctors were agreed that the blow had been dealt with a thin knife, and that death had followed within a few minutes, but no trace of the weapon had so far been found. A careful inspection of the windows had not revealed any sign of the fastenings having been tampered with, and although finger-prints were clearly visible upon the glass it was expected that these would prove to be the valet's, since he freely admitted that he had shut the windows some time before Nathaniel had come upstairs. The door-keys belonging both to the bedroom and the bathroom would be subjected to a more minute inspection, and the ventilator above the bathroom window had already been exhaustively studied, without, however, yielding any clue. The only article of interest which had been discovered in Nathaniel's room was a flat gold cigarette-case, which had been found on the floor, lying half under the armchair beside the fire, out of sight of a cursory survey of the room.

The Inspector looked narrowly at this. It bore a monogram composed of the letters S and H. "Any fingerprints?" he asked.

"No, sir."

"What, none?"

"No, sir. I reckon they got rubbed off."

"I suppose they must have. All right, I'll take charge of it."

"Yes, sir," said the young detective.

"And I'll see Miss Paula Herriard again. Send her in!"

This second summons to the morning-room apparently discomposed Paula, for she came in presently with a heightened colour, and more than her usual impetuosity. Without giving the Inspector time to speak, she demanded angrily what more he could possibly want with her. "I call it utter incompetence!" she said, scorn vibrating in her voice.

The Inspector was unmoved by this stricture. Plenty of people, he reflected, when they were frightened tried to conceal it under a blustering manner. He thought, watching her restless hands and over-brilliant eyes, that Paula was decidedly frightened. "I should like to go over your evidence again, miss," he said, turning back the pages of his notebook.

"Bright!" she commented, with a sharp, unmirthful laugh.

He paid no heed; she didn't even annoy him; in fact, the more she lost her temper the better pleased he would be. "You stated, miss, that when you went up to your room to change for dinner, you didn't come out of it again until you joined the rest of the party in the drawing-room."

Her eyes were fixed on him, neverr wavered from his face, but he thought she breathed more rapidly. "Well?"

"Do you wish to add anything to that?" asked the Inspector, giving her back look for look.

He had rattled her, just as he'd known he would. He could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the halfconcealed alarm. He could have sworn she'd play for time, and she did, saying defensively: "Why should I?"

"My information is that you were seen coming away from the deceased's bedroom in your dressing-gown," he answered, at his most stolid.

He was startled by the sudden leap of flame into her eyes, the rush of colour to her cheeks. She was a dangerous piece of goods, and no mistake! he thought.

"My God, what does this house do to people? Who's been spying on me? Did I have a bloodstained dagger in my hand?"

He was shocked by her brutality, but although he was not an imaginative man, he thought he could readily picture her as a villainess in the kind of good oldfashioned melodrama you never seemed to see nowadays. He replied dampingly: "No, miss."

"You astonish me! Now tell me this: Was I seen coming out of my uncle's room? Was I?"

"Never mind asking me questions, miss, if you please! Did you go to your uncle's room after you had gone upstairs to change for dinner?"

"No, I didn't. I went to the door of his room, and no further."

"How was that, miss?"

She jerked up one shoulder. "He wouldn't let me in. I suppose he was dead."

"When you say he wouldn't let you in, what do you mean?"

"Oh my God, must you have every I dotted, and every T crossed? The door was locked; he didn't answer when I knocked."

"Did you speak to him?"

"I don't know. Yes, I think so. I said, "It's I, Paula," or something of that sort. What does it matter?"